Dawn Sarang
by Insomniazzz
Summary: There's a class reunion at the Looniversity. Will Furrball keep his promise to Fifi to attend or will circumstances circumvent the cat from commitment? Perhaps he will finally find that the pain of keeping a promise might just be worth the worry.
1. Chapter 1

_Characters intellectual property of Warner Brothers, blah blah blah…_

_Dawn Sarang_ – Domingo Insomniazzz

**A**

It was almost dawn. Nearing the time when the body and the soul rendezvous once again, pulling the individual out of the abyss of dreamland. Something Fifi was looking forward to for the first time in years; waking up in the vicinity of a certain blue feline who, until recently had been nothing more than a ghost of a memory infrequently wandering through her subconscious, vanishing before she could even focus her thoughts hard enough to know it was him she was dreaming of.

A cool draft blew through the window, interrupting the gradual ritual of mental reunification, causing Fifi to be jolted awake by the unwelcome visitor from outside. Why was the window opened in the first place, anyway? Fifi glanced at the clock on the desk. It took a moment for her eyes to register the red numbers. 5:23? 5:28? Five something. That's all that mattered. It was no use; once she was up, she was up.

Groaning, Fifi turned over, wanting to fight the inevitable rising, when she froze. Furrball's blanket was neatly folded on the easy chair that he'd insisted on sleeping on. The bathroom door was open; the light off. Getting up to investigate, the skunk's heart sunk at the Holiday Inn stationary on the desk. There was a paw print from a blue stamp pad and a number of wet spots around it that Fifi recognized as teardrops. She sighed, recalling her Looniversity days of sniffling as she wrote in her diary. Another gust blew the pad to the floor. As Fifi walked over to close the window it dawned at her that Furrball wasn't coming back. The old pain started to engulf her, and she could feel the cold sweat coming. They'd only been together for a day.

Before she could crumble up in the bed and sulk, Fifi came to a sudden realization. It wasn't like her to dwell... instinct soon kicked in and a hopeful grin spread across her lips. It wasn't Furrball's style to hitch a ride and he couldn't be close to the train station yet; it was 30 miles away and the tears were still fresh.

It was in her nature to chase as much as it was in his nature to run. That's why they were meant for each other. The runner will eventually lose stamina, but the driver will always be strong. Snatching up her keys, Fifi took off.

**AN**

Silence. For once, there was no running commentary in his head, scrutinizing or justifying the cat's actions. He was just…there. One might have mistaken him for sleepwalking, as parasomina episodes had been common for Furrball since birth… After a mile, the feline conceded, nearly collapsing on the roadside. With no physical action to occupy his mind, Furrball was helpless to prevent the avalanche of thoughts from crashing down...none of which were coherent or objective enough to provide him with a clue as to why he'd left in the first place.

In an impulsive attempt to tame the thoughts, the feline took out his violin and attempted to soothe his subconscious back to sleep, but ended up snapping the E string almost immediately. His eyes dilated. Staring at his violin, the truth finally dawned on him. This wasn't a lucid dream after all. Scanning the area, Furrball started to lose it. Had he been lying to himself just now, thinking he'd been dreaming or was he lying to himself about dreaming this in the first place?

Instinct doesn't need cognition. Of course, if that were true, then all the progress… all the trust he'd gained in having a purpose in life was for naught. Furrball looked back for a moment, taking a knee. Maybe she didn't know yet. He looked at the sky. The sun wasn't pink yet. There might still be some time to…scratch that. His legs gave out on him for the first time in years, forcing the cat to sit on the side of the highway. Life can be rather cruel when it wants to be.

Lucky for the feline, this wasn't one of those times.

She had no reason to speed; her plan was methodical. She'd start by going four miles south, which was the direction of the bus station then go back to the hotel and try another direction. Three miles into her trip south, Fifi had kept it together, staying exclusively focused on trying to spot blue in the gray dawn. Three and a half miles into her trip, she started to lose her nerve, swerving onto the median a couple of times. Her head was spinning and she nearly ran off the road when something caught her eye. Spying her target lying in the fetal position in dangerous proximity of oncoming traffic, Fifi pulled over, stopping just in front of him.

If there was one thing the skunk had learned about dating over the years, it was restraint. Seeing her cat lying on the ground was likely the cause of this lesson nearly slipping her mind. Nearly.

"You okay?"

Furrball lifted his head to find a purple outstretched paw beckoning him. He dare not look her in the face, but before he could tell his body not to, he accepted the skunk's hand. He tried to hide his limp as he turned around to pick up his violin. She caught him before he fell over. It was then that they both realized he'd twisted his ankle. Only **he** knew that _she_ was the reason why.

"You can't make it on foot with that leg," Fifi began, pulling her head under his shoulder to support him. "At least let me give you a ride to the station or wherever you're going…"

Furrball was stunned. He'd expected, even wanted her to do the old routine of coming onto him with no tact whatsoever. It would have made it easier to…no. That was then. A lifetime ago.

_Stop living in the past, fleabag._

"Is that a no? Sounded…angry."

Furrball looked at Fifi's shoes, as he couldn't see anything else from his vantage point.

"I di-di-di-didn't m-m-mean t-t-t-…" Fifi softly touched her finger to his lips, stopping the awkward response. She gently led him to her car.

**ANE**

The radio was on the fritz adding silence to the already awkward atmosphere. Furrball massaged his ankle as Fifi drove, opening her mouth a few times to speak; the words always dissolving before reaching the feline's ears. As they came within miles of the train station, Fifi tried one last time, smiling coyly at her plan.

"Cheapskate."

Furrball's ears perked. He wanted to hear her voice; the quiet was driving him mad, but didn't know how to get her to talk without opening up a…

"Ex-excuse m-me?"

Fifi gave Furrball a sly grin. "You stuck me with the hotel bill."

Furrball's eyes widened and he looked out his window in wonder. Fifi patted his good leg softly.

"I didn't mean anything by it, don't worry about-"

The cat interrupted Fifi, pointing to the stationary on the cup holder. He tore off the first page with the paw print, revealing an envelope taped to the next page. Fifi eyed the envelope suspiciously taking it from him. She noticed some cash and a note inside. Without a word, she pulled over to the side of the road, Furrball looking on intently. Fifi gingerly pulled out the cash.

"Was this for the…" the feline nodded.

"But that would mean…" the cat smiled.

"So you weren't…" Furrball tried to catch the chuckle before it escaped but just missed.

Fifi peered deeper into the envelope and pulled out the other note. At this, Furrball's expression transformed from yang to yin, realizing that her not knowing about the money meant she hadn't read the note yet. But that would mean… the paw print was all she needed to…the cat's ears started to burn as Fifi read his words aloud... the words she could make out, anyway

"Sorry…..I want….but….selfish…You deserve constancy….I need….wanderer..wanders….nature….instinct"

Fifi tried a few more times to make out the words that she couldn't, but eventually relented, folding up the paper to face the blue cat. There wasn't much they could say to one another. Furrball started to open the door jarring Fifi from her trance. She lunged forward, nearly stopping him from grabbing the handle, but caught herself before she could touch him, turning away.

"I can't pretend to know I understand what goes on up there," she nodded at Furrball's head, causing the cat to put his paws in his lap. "But the same is true for you."

Furrball looked at Fifi a bit dumbfounded. "Y-you n-n-need-"

"You don't get it! You think I don't know what it's like to be ostracized?" Fifi's tail twitched slightly.

"B-b-b-ut…"

"No. You don't get to talk now. You listen to me."

Furrball noticed a hint of French behind her voice, though it wasn't the exaggerated phony accent she'd usually use.

"I can wait. I want to."

He looked at her, perplexed.

"For you to lose your urge to run away. I just…want you to take me along, so that…when you're done… you won't feel empty inside." She looked down, losing her nerve, "…Like me."

Something stirred in the cat causing him to lose his stutter for a moment.

"You don't know me. What makes you think you'll like me?"

"Do **you** even know you? You don't even know why you left today."

Furrball glared at the skunk for a moment before they locked eyes and he had to look away.

"H-h-how d-do y-you kn-know…"

"It's not that hard to read the body language of a conditional mute, Furrball."

The two locked eyes once more. After a few moments they both cracked a smile at the same time. Furrball rolled his head back, laughing nearly inaudibly.

"Guess we'll see how long we can put up with each other then," he observed, a bit surprised to hear the sound of his own voice.

**ANES**

It was faint; had Fifi not been sitting next to him, she wouldn't have been able to hear it at all. A low purr as Furrball yawned, smacking his lips a few times as he sat up. The skunk watched as Furrball rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and smiled as he fiddled with his seat, trying to get it to move up a bit.

The light of her smile caught his receptors, causing Furrball to grin himself. He inhaled deeply, slowly, relishing the moment, pausing briefly after he let out his breath. His nose twitched slightly as his eyes dilated. It wasn't that he was afraid she'd have a noxious odor, but… her scent was so subtle. Intoxicating, even. He sniffed once more, trying to be discrete. She made no indication that she knew what he was doing, so he relaxed a bit. Everything about her was irresistible. He suddenly felt very foolish, having taken so long to realize this. Before he could say anything, she started to laugh. His stomach was growling most unpleasantly.

"Good timing," Fifi commented, pulling into an exit. "She's starving as well," she added, patting the steering wheel.

Furrball got his first lesson on pumping gas that day. He found it a bit too exhilarating for Fifi's taste, but she remained good humored about it. Step by step was the best method for any project. She stopped on her way to the cash register as the thought rolled into her head. Shaking her head, she almost slammed the money on the counter, cursing in her mind. _No! He's not a project. He just needs…_

"Your change."

"Excuse moi? I don't be wanting to change him!" Fifi sneered at the attendant until she realized he was talking about money. Quickly apologizing, she scooped up the cash and hurried off to her car as Furrball examined a wet squeegee curiously.

"Just drag the straight part across the windshield," she explained. "It makes it easier to see out of."

Fifi's smile didn't return as Furrball made several botched attempts at cleaning her windshield. She hadn't considered so much the reason for her affection beyond the novelty of being with the elusive feline. Would her feelings stay as keen for him when he was ready to finally settle down? Fifi brushed this away, chocking it up to having not had a decent breakfast just yet. As Furrball finished his sad attempt at squeegeeing, she ushered him into the car, flashing him a look of almost forced elation.

They'd been on the road a good two hours before the question crossed either one of their minds. Fifi looked at Furrball, who was already looking at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"We passed the train station forty-five minutes ago, you know."

The cat grinned, purring slightly, but said nothing more. A thought jumped up from oblivion and smacked Fifi in the head just then.

"You know, I have an aunt who lives in Maysville. It's on the border." Furrball looked at Fifi, not sure where this was leading.

"She'll probably let me leave the car and my stuff over there for a while."

"L-l-leave?"

The skunk wore a mischievous expression, producing an elaborately folded note. Furrball took it, rolling his eyes as he tried to unfolded it without ripping it to shreds.

_Girls._

Fifi laughed, guessing his sentiments. The feline stared at the message for a while until his eyes started to glaze over. He turned it at different angles to no avail. It became gradually apparent to Fifi what the problem was and she racked her brain trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation. Furrball, sensing this saved her.

"N-n-never h-h-h-ad a r-r-reason to r-read c-c-c-ursive bef-f-ore."

" Want me to help you?" she offered , gently.

"N-no!"

Fifi looked like Furrball had just slapped her. Facing the cat she saw an impish grin on his face.

"I w-want you to t-t-tell me what it s-says."

Fifi playfully slugged him in the arm, retrieving the paper as she drove on.

"Basically, it's a letter from Shirley," Fifi explained. "You remember her, right?"

Furrball shrugged. "Sh-should I?"

" I guess you two never really crossed paths in school much…" Fifi frowned, concentrating on maneuvering through traffic for a bit. Furrball shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"G-go o-o-on," he encouraged after a long pause. "Why doesn't sh-sh-she use e-m-mail?"

Fifi laughed. "Shirley the Loon and a computer? Puhlease! I'm surprised she didn't use telepathy!"

The cat finally smiled, starting to remember the duck now.

"So anyway, she was wondering if I was going to the class reunion this month," she closed her eyes, gritting her teeth, praying this wouldn't send Furrball off the deep end.

"W-w-watch the road!"

Fifi nearly panicked, about to slam on the brakes when she found there was no one on the street. All she could hear was the sound of the feline laughing; a relatively new, but somewhat calming noise.

"So, did you want to go? Together?" The last word was barely a whisper.

Furrball glanced a Fifi for a moment, the back at the road. Subtly nodded. Before Fifi could even acknowledge she saw the gesture, Furrball leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

**ANEST**

"We're here," Fifi raised her voice slightly, hoping this would stir the slumbering feline.

"S-s-so fast?" Furrball slowly opened his eyes, stretching loudly.

"Not California, silly. My aunt's house."

"Huh?" Furrball tensed up, looking around. He gasped, at the sight. The "house" was at least three stories high. The fountain in the middle of the front yard spouted crystal-blue water higher than Furrball could see. Every kind of flower imaginable lined the neon green lawn. Polished marble led up to the front porch.

"C'mon, silly."

Furrball manually closed his jaw with his paw, slowly following Fifi to the huge door. He'd always felt awkward, but this was the first time he felt completely out of place. He dreaded the sound of the door opening.

"Fifi? Est vous, ma nièce?" Furrball cringed at the sound of the elder skunk's voice. It sounded overly enthusiastic. Forced. Theatrical. Phony? Phony.

"Sont vous, tante?"

Then came the fake kisses. Fifi was no better. Furrball surmised it was more of the quality of French intonation that required the strained style as opposed to phoniness. Of course he'd never actually witnessed a family reunion of sorts. Small wonder about his apprehensions.

"And just who might this be?" Furrball's keen eyes detected the raised eyebrow at "this" and the way the question seemed more like it was hurled than actual inquisition. Of course her facial muscles told a different story altogether, so he tried to ignore it all.

"This is my…" Fifi looked at Furrball, an awkward look appeared on both of their faces and Fifi began to blush. "That is, he's…"

The aunt's piercing gaze never left the cat for a moment as Fifi tried to speak.

"We went to S-s-chool together." Furrball straightened up, trying his level best not to stutter.

"Oui, Auntie Inès, meet Furrball."

The pair shared exaggerated smiles, as Inès looked them over suspiciously for a moment.

"Fur-ball," she spoke it slowly, cautiously, as if the name were like a cornered rattlesnake. Furrball gave Fifi a worried glance. She touched his arm quickly. Inès noticed the exchange but said nothing. The three of them stood frozen in time for a moment until the bass from a green Tahoe enveloped the area. Furrball was tempted to duck for cover before remembering where he was. As the SUV pulled into the driveway, the trance was broken.

"So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a puuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnk!" A young skunk with cornrolls jumped out, nearly tripping over his baggy jeans. "So I go to my loaded tech nine that up in the truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnk!" he "sang" as he opened the back, retrieving a basketball. Turning to the visitors, the young skunk stopped in his tracks.

"Cuzin Fife?"

"Rockee?" Fifi looked a bit shocked, Furrball noticed.

"'S 'R to the C' now. But you family so you can call me R.C. Who this?" he nodded at the cat.

"A friend," Fifi failed to sound nonchalant.

Furrball smirked. Having grown up in the city streets, he detested hearing the privileged few butchering their language purposely. Had he had a chance to speak normally, he wouldn't waste it for the sake of an image.

"Sup, playa?" Rockee nodded at Furrball, passing him the ball.

For the sake of his girlfriend, Furrball decided to play nice, catching the ball and spinning it on his claw for a bit before throwing it back. So he was showing off a bit. Not a crime. Inès didn't look impressed at all.

"You alright, C," Rockee came forward initiating an elaborate handshake. Though it pained him to fit into this roll, Furrball kept up with the handshake, amusing the skunk even more. Fifi smiled as Rockee showed his approval of the guest.

"Well, do come in anyway," Inès relented, trying to mask the disappointment her voice and face. Perhaps not trying too hard. Perhaps blatantly not trying too hard.

As the others entered, Furrball paused for a moment. Had he just acknowledged Fifi as his girlfriend in his mind just then? A purple hand squeezed his own paw gently, causing him to look up at the source of his thought.

"Let's go," she whispered, softly.

-End Part 1-


	2. Chapter 2

**ANESTH**

Dinner had been an interesting affair to say the least. Aside from Inès's latent comments throughout the meal, Rockee professed that he was thrilled to be having dinner with a genuine thug. Of course it had been meant as a compliment, but even so...

The observation triggered a host of thoughts Furrball was trying to avoid. He wasn't a thug, but what did that make him? A victim of circumstance? Simply a victim? He never really crossed over either side of the spectrum and it was rather lonely to be teetering over the edge. He wanted to make something of himself but the odor of the dumpster seemed to catch up with him wherever he went. Furrball couldn't suppress the smile from this thought, being in a house full of skunks.

Inès and Fifi were doing the dishes together, so that left Furrball to accompany Rockee to his room; the cat having to endure the eager teen's ramblings as they watched college football highlights on ESPN.

"See, most of my boys are all about dem Wildcats," Rockee explained. "Can't blame 'em. This _is_ Kentucky. But me? Penn State all the way, know what I'm sayin'?" Furrball shrugged, shaking his head.

"Not into college ball, eh?"

Furrball smirked.

"What's your sport, then, playa?"

The cat balled up his fists and grinned at Rockee.

"MMA?"

Furrball nodded, not bothering to correct the skunk. He had other things on his mind like focusing on Fifi's conversation coming from the kitchen. Wonderful thing, having a cat's sense of hearing. Furrball did his best to tune out Rockee as he went on about BJ Penn and GSP being overhyped. He remembered to nod occasionally as he eavesdropped five rooms away.

. . . .

"…It's not that I don't trust you Fifi, but your judgment has always been a bit… lax in the dating department."

"I guess that runs in the family, _tante_."

"How was I supposed to know Pepe would be exactly the same way off-screen as he was on TV? Anyways, this is about your future, Fifi. It's like you don't even know what you are anymore."

"…That isn't fair."

"I mean it's one thing that you went and had the surgery. Most girls in our species have considered it at least once in their life. But bringing home a cat? It's as if you're trying to emulate what Pepe did with that… that _putain_."

"_Tante_, please. She's not a whore and it's not like that."

"Then what's it like? What are you doing with… _it?_"

"I…"

"He's below you, don't you know that?"  
"He isn't!"

"Tell me, Fifi. What does he do?"

"You're not my mother."  
"In other words, he doesn't do anything. What're you going to do when you realize that you've settled for less? Are you going to resent him? Or you?"

"No! Damn it!"

"Fifi, don't you walk away. Think about it. You are not a kid anymore. What you decide to do these days will affect your future."  
"I **am**__thinking about the future!"

"Are you now?"

"Your problem with Furrball is he's not a skunk."

"No, Fifi. My problem is that _you_ seem to resent being one… And what are _you_ looking at, vagrant?"

_An over-privileged gold digger._

"You p-p-put too much s-s-stock in s-s-s-pecies and n-n-not enough in s-s-s-pirit," Furrball was standing in the doorway, his eyes, nothing more than two venomous slits. There was more he could have said, but not in the presence of Fifi. He turned to leave. Fifi quickly joined him, clinging to his arm.

Inès opened her mouth to protest, but the words never came. She looked at the knife rack to her left. Grabbing a butcher knife, she tossed it with all her might, stumbling forward as she threw. The cat's ears twitched and he thrust Fifi to the side out of harm's way as the handle struck him in the spine.

Turning around to face his assailant, Furrball snatched the knife from the floor and methodically slunk towards Inès on all fours. Grabbing the skunk's hair, he pinned her to the ground, putting the knife dangerously close to her throat. Leaning in to her ear, his words were unmistakable.

"I hope to God you were aiming for me." He dropped the knife in the sink as he and Fifi left, Inès stunned and listless.

**ANETESTH**

"Ladies and gentlemen we are now boarding customers in sections G through H. All customers, G to H, please have your boarding passes ready."

Fifi couldn't help but notice Furrball's apprehension as they stood in line.

"Hey, don't look so nervous," she whispered. "We're lucky they didn't make you check your claws in at the security checkpoint, ya know."

Furrball put his paws in his pockets, tensing up more as they progressed in line. Fifi smiled, hugging him quickly as the two produced their boarding passes to the attendant.

"Enjoy your flight, sir."

The cat looked at his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the flight attendant.

"He hasn't flown in years," Fifi explained winking at the stewardess.

Furrball had opted for the aisle seat. Not being able to see the ground made him dizzy. Fifi held his hand during the takeoff, a simple but very welcome gesture, which he reciprocated by giving the skunk a quick peck on the paw, causing Fifi to blush.

"Are you s-s-sure you w-w-wanted to leave your s-s-stuff in the c-c-car in l-l-long term p-p-parking?" the feline asked suddenly, unsure of his recent action.

Fifi sighed sadly, hoping for Furrball to have lost the stutter altogether. At least his volume had increased to a normal whisper.

"I don't care what happens to it," she answered frankly, looking into his eyes. "Won't miss it," she pulled her seat back a bit and yawned. "I'm ready for the life on the road."

Furrball gave the skunk an incredulous look.

"You s-s-sure you're ready to r-r-ride this train?"

Fifi started laughing, the last thing Furrball expected. His ears drooped and he looked at his shoes, hurt.

"No," Fifi managed between giggles, grabbing his paw. "It's just that, we're in a plane and what you said…" she couldn't finish her sentence, cracking up again.

When the cat realized no offense was intended, he relaxed his facial muscles enough to smile. The laughing was infectious and he giggled a bit before they both calmed down.

"…But seriously, Furrball," Fifi began, wiping a tear from her eye. "Beyond how you grew up, there seems to be something that makes you wander. I want to experience it for myself. I want to see what makes you tick…" Her voice trailed off as the scenery in the window caught her attention for a moment. "It's like touching a cloud, I guess."

"H-how s-s-so?"

"Just because everyone says they're fluffy doesn't mean they know what it's like to feel one."

Furrball cocked his head to the side, missing the metaphor. "People s-s-say I feel s-s-s-oft?"

"No, silly. They… they say they feel bad for you. But sympathy and empathy are two different animals…"

Furrball shifted in his seat and tried to stop his tail from twitching. He suddenly felt a rush of blood go to his head. Was this that feeling you get when you…

"Empathy seems to be the only way for me to really get to know why you are what you are."

The feline shuddered for a moment. He suddenly felt very guilty. If Fifi had been so concerned about getting to know _him_, why wasn't he so interested in knowing _her_?

"Wh-wh-what s-s-s-surgery?" he asked suddenly, not bothering to filter the suddenly curiosity and urge to ask about her.

The skunk sat up, facing him, a blank expression on her face.

"Your aunt m-m-mentioned s-s-s-"

Fifi's cheeks turned a bright red stopping him in mid-sentence. He started feeling hot again.

"I wanted to be more like …a squirrel," she started looking out the window again.

Furrball waded in a pool of confusion, waiting for Fifi to finish explaining. Finally he noticed her tail swishing slowly and the light bulb came on.

"OH!"

"You didn't notice before?" her tone was upset, almost angry.

"Uh… th-that is… I th-thought the sp-sp-spray was like a gun, right?" Suddenly Furrball regretted bringing up the topic at all.

"A gun?"

"W-w-well, if you've g-g-g-got the s-safety on a 9 mil, it's not gonna sh-sh-sh-oot anyone."

"Of course I can control it better now, but if you have a pistol, aren't you more tempted to use it?"

"I g-g-guess so."

Fifi raised an eyebrow, facing Furrball again. "You don't approve," she surmised.

"It's not th-that."

"What is it, then?"

"W—well, I can't imagine I d-d-didn't c-contribute to your decision."

"What do you mean?"

"Always avoiding you at the L-l-looniversity."

"You avoided everyone."

"Y-y-yeah, I g-g-guess so, but s-s-still…"

"If I hadn't gotten the surgery and I still couldn't control…it, do you think we could be together right now?"

Furrball couldn't form the words. He shook his head, sadly.

"Hey," Fifi cupped his chin with her paws turning the cat to face her. "It was a hypothetical question, anyway. The decisions we both made up to this point brought us to where we are, not coincidence. So there's no reason for you to feel guilty."

Fifi's simple logic seemed to resonate with Furrball. He was suddenly very quiet, very still, pondering her words, the more he thought, the more intense his expression became. Eventually, he couldn't hold back the tears and hid them behind her as he embraced Fifi, taking it all in. She hugged back, a sweet smile on her lips.

**ANESTHE**

Airport shuttles are curious creatures. The reason for making some airports inaccessible on foot had always eluded Furrball. Thankfully, when they were finally able to hop on a shuttle it was relatively empty.

"I d-don't trust trains without d-d-drivers."

Fifi nodded, scooting closer to the cat. She opened her handbag, fishing around in it for a while before producing a newspaper clipping. Keeping him occupied, she thought, was the only comfort she could provide as the sign said the trip would take a good twenty minutes.

Furrball took the newspaper clipping from Fifi and studied it for a while.

"Hey man, wouldn't it have been great if they'd passed proposition 27 this year?" a voice from the seats directly in front of the two announced. Fifi glared in that direction for a moment. Furrball remained oblivious, making out the headline in his head.

"Oh…" he realized, finally understanding what the clipping said. "Oh." He looked at Fifi, embarrassed.

"Number One Contender a No-Show for Championship Match," Fifi recited, taking the clip from him.

"Y-y-yeah." Furrball grabbed his tail, squeezing it softly.

"You were a boxer in Chicago?"

"A while ago, y-yeah."

"What happened?"

"I h-h-hit. I g-g-got h-h-hit."

"I mean… why'd you stop fighting?"

"If I really wanted to get p-p-paid for giving others b-b-brain damage, I could have been a g-g-gangster."

"Why'd you start, in the first place, then?"

"I d-d-dunno."

"Damn, I mean what kind of a liberal effed up world do we gotta live in when animals get to ride public transport like they're people or somethin'?" the voice from ahead again.

Furrball looked at Fifi, whose expression sullened. He was completely used to the leering of people and could completely tune out everyone. By the look on Fifi's face, she wasn't normally targeted or anything, meaning she probably wouldn't have been if he hadn't been with her. Instinctively, his claws retracted. Before he could do anything, he felt a firm grip on his wrist. Fifi shook her head, pleading with her eyes. Concealing his natural weapons for her sake, he relaxed his body a bit.

"I guess I was t-talked into it. D-didn't have anything b-b-better to do…" he explained, taking her mind off the asshole in front. "I'm n-n-not championship material, though."

Fifi stared at clipping for a moment. "Says that Marc Antony was your trainer. Must have been really hard.

The cat chuckled. "You have n-n-no idea."

"What's that horrible stench? I tell ya, there outta be a law!" this time, the asshole was brave enough to turn around for a second.

Furrball rose to his feet, livid.

"If y'all don't shut yer damned mouths and stop making us all look stupid, I'mma tell airport security you're terrorists!" A prison-cut gentleman got out of his seat, approaching the passengers in front of them. Fifi quickly pulled Furrball's shirt, causing him to lose his balance and sit down.

"It's a free country, man."

The vigilant patron cracked his knuckles, smirking at the hackneyed response. "If you don't shut the hell up, I'm gonna knock you the hell out."

The intolerant passenger stood up. He tapped his own cheek a couple of times.

"Touch me and I'll sue."

The man pulled his fist back for a second, then smirked. "Whateva... I got deep pockets."

Furrball pounced, intercepted the right hook just in time to prevent impact. The man gazed at the cat, astonished. The cat shook his head, smiling gently.

_Ruthless is the way of the mutt, was it?_

As they put their arms down, the vigilante laughed, slapping Furrball on the back.

"Looks like you got more class than anyone here, dude," he observed. Turning to the asshole, he smiled. "Looks like you pissed your pants, too," he nodded at the stain. "Who stinks now, asshole?"

They all took their seats and the rest of the ride was in complete silence.

**ANESTHES**

The only real remnants of Acme Acres was the Looniversity, which was currently being used appropriately as a satellite campus for an art school. The halls were like a museum. Copies of scripts, random props and countless pictures adorned the walls. The campus was closed to the public for the reunion obviously and the fact that they were three hours late made it easier to anonymously slip in from the back, avoiding the modestly-sized mob of die-hard fans camped out around the front entrance.

Furrball looked around in wonder. He'd only agreed to go to make Fifi happy, as he still harbored ill feelings towards the establishment. Seeing a photo of him sleeping in a cardboard box did nothing to lighten his mood.

Sensing the cat's apprehensions, Fifi coaxed him forward, trying her best not to show her excitement. The layout hadn't really changed so it wasn't too hard to find the auditorium. Of course, the noise from the auditorium was a dead giveaway as well.

Rounding the corner, Furrball nearly slammed into a familiar face.

"Little Beeper!" Fifi started. "You're uh, not so little anymore, are you?"

The roadrunner smiled wide. She wasn't kidding. He was at least a head taller than Furrball, not including his trademark Mohawk. Still skinny as a bean pole, though.

"Meep," he nodded at Fifi winking and nudging Furrball. "Beep beep?"

Furrball blushed slightly and held Fifi's hand, grinning. He nodded back.

"Meep meep meep meep!" And with that, Little Beeper disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Alone again, the couple exchanged glances.

"So we're…" Fifi began.

"Y-yeah, we are." Furrball answered. He leaned closer to her, closing his eyes. Before they could go any further, the auditorium door burst open, revealing a slightly inebriated green mallard wearing his necktie for a headband.

"Hey g-guys! Guess who's here!" Plucky announced, slurring his words a bit. "P-pay up, Fowlmouth!"

A rooster with liberty spikes poked his head through the door, wide-eyed.

"Ah ****, man! How the **** is that even ****ing possible?"

The two were separated almost immediately after entering the auditorium. All their old classmates were there, but clearly segregated by gender. Furrball looked back at Fifi as he was being led into the thick of the guys. She shrugged and waved, blowing him a kiss which didn't go unnoticed.

From the cat's vantage point, nearly all of his graduating class was there, plus some other cast members. Even a number of the old faculty were present, albeit on the opposite side. Despite being relatively sociophobic, Furrball was able to quell this fear relatively well for the moment as he was met with numerous incoherent greetings and congratulations for finally hooking up with Fifi. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to find Dizzy anywhere. As he was push further into the crowd, someone made his blood run cold. A coyote was leaning against the wall, arms folded with that piercing look in his eyes.

"He's been like this since he arrived," Hampton offered quietly. Furrball gave the pig a worried look. He awkwardly approached Calamity, eyes diverted. When the coyote noticed him, he straightened up a bit, a sly grin painted on his face. Furrball offered his paw. Calamity looked at it, then the cat. The other toons tried to hide their curiosity.

"Th-thanks," Furrball whispered, oblivious to his surroundings. Calamity smiled, relenting. He shook the cat's hand, giving him a hearty slap on the back and joined the group.

Across the room, Fifi sighed with relief before continuing her conversation with Babs and Shirley.

"Furrball, I gotta tell ya," Plucky still spit a bit as he talked. "I missed ya a lot. Still think the most fun I had in the studio was with you and Hampton in Duck Trek. Why didn't you never hang out?" Hampton offered his shoulder for Plucky as his sway was getting worse.

"It's good to see ya again, Furrball," Furrball turned around to see Buster. He looked exactly as Furrball imagined, having not changed much physically at all right down to his wardrobe choice. Furrball smiled, accepting a drink from the rabbit.

"Ah ten shun, Ah say, Ah ten shun, please!" All eyes turned toward Foghorn Leghorn. The chatter gradually subsided and the tenured professor continued. "If you'll all follow, ah say, follow us to the cafeteria we can start the banquet."

As they all gravitated toward the exit, Furrball tried to keep an eye out for Dizzy, still not finding him.

**ANESTHESI**

Dinner was amazing. There was no end in sight to the supply of food. The guys and gals were still separated, so Furrball found himself eating with Plucky and Hampton. Calamity was oddly sitting next to his adopted brother.

"So I was like, 'Yeah I'll say your catch phrase. You clod!" Furrball looked over at Hampton who shook his head. Plucky wasn't making any sense whatsoever. His anecdotes had no beginnings or ends.

"Lighten up, Furrball! Join the party!" Plucky turned his attention to the cat. "Hey, ya wanna know a secret? I dabble in Catonese. Had to learn some for a commercial a few years back."

Furrball smirked, folding his arms.

"No, it's true!" Plucky insisted. "Watch this!"

_I like to vomit in my soda._

"That's how you say you like root beer!"

Furrball cracked up, nearly falling out of his chair laughing.

"What, is it my accent?"

The feline couldn't respond, he was laughing too hard.

"I think your diction was off," Hampton offered. Regaining his control, Furrball nodded.

"Whatever. I gotta go to the bathroom. Furrball, guard my chopsticks, 'kay?"

Furrball and Hampton watch as Plucky waddled off.

"He'll be gone for a while," Hampton observed, turning to Furrball. "Which is perfect, because we need to talk."

Furrball eyed Hampton suspiciously, trying to guess his motives.

"It's good to see you're with Fifi now. It really is," the pig began. "I'm just a little concerned, is all. Have you been an item for long?"

Furrball looked at the ceiling for a bit then shook his head.

"I tried to be a good boyfriend back in the day, but she's special. She needs… well, understanding."

Furrball scratched his head waiting for Hampton to continue. The pig sighed, recalling his old affection for the skunk.

"Her family is insane, ya know."

Furrball nodded, turning his attention to Fifi, who was energetically engaged in a talk with Babs. She noticed his gaze and winked at him, causing the cat to smile.

"You know about her parents, right?"

The feline shook his head.

"They're Catholic, so they didn't get divorced, but sometimes they fought so hard… she actually did stay in that Cadillac from time to time to get away from their constant bickering. Don't tell her I said this, but I think her _real_ father might have been half-squirrel. That might explain why-"

"Ya really outta see that new Bond movie, brothers. It's killer!" Plucky stumbled back to his seat.

Hampton and Furrball exchanged worried glances.

"Uh, Plucky, that movie came out two years ago."

"I'll show ya two years ago!"

Furrball took the bottle away from Plucky, passing it down to Buster.

"Hey! I wasn't done with th-that!"

"Furrball's right, you've had enough for one night." Hampton stopped Plucky from getting another bottle from a passing waiter.

"Just think about what I said, Furrball. Don't stay with her if you can't commit," Hampton got up, leading Plucky to the water fountain leaving Furrball alone in a crowded room once more with no company but his thoughts. Before a bout of depression had time to kick in, the cat felt a familiar wind on his fur. To his right, he could see a purplish blur slowly coming into focus right next to him. With the exception of a more modern cap as opposed to his old beanie, Dizzy didn't seem much different from his school days.

"Furrby!" Dizzy shouted, violently hugging his old friend.

Furrball choked in response, though his smile was very inviting. He nodded to his watch and shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry I late. Work insane these days." Dizzy quickly turned his attention to the food, having three of everything as the others watched amused. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Dizzy's expression changed from carefree to somber as he turned to face Furrball once again.

"We need talk. Serious. Can you meet me on roof at dawn? I need you help." His tone was uncharacteristically frantic. Furrball gave the Tasmanian devil a concerned look and pointed at his watch indicating he was free to talk there and then. Dizzy grinned, showing his teeth.

"You still nice. Tomorrow fine. Enjoy the party!" At this, Dizzy whirled over to the ladies table, mingling with his old flames.

Furrball forced himself to smile, trying not to think about the trouble Dizzy might have gotten himself into and stood up to get some dessert. As he stood in line for an ice cream sundae he felt a familiar presence behind him.

"Effie!"

Furrball turned to find Penelope Pussycat.

_Long time, Ms. Kitty. Long time!_

"How have you been all these years? I've been worried about you!"

_ I'm hanging in there alright. I hope you're doing okay._

_ "_Can't complain. Enjoying my semi-retirement."

_ Yeah, I'll bet you are, Ms. Kitty. Didn't you do a cell phone commercial?_

"That's why I said 'semi', Effie. Say, there's a meeting tonight after hours. Sylvester said he wants you to attend if you can."

Furrball had to do a double take. He knew that Sylvester rarely, if ever, invited former students to his meetings. Gulping, he nodded.

"Great! See you there!" Penelope waltzed off, leaving Furrball to collect his sundae as well as his thoughts.

-End part 2 of 5-

_I do apologize for the melancholy tone_


	3. Chapter 3

**ANESTHESIA**

"Hello there, Furrball. Won't you sit down?" The ever-courteous Claude greeted the apprehensive blue cat. He was tardy from debating with himself on whether to show up or not. For once, he decided to go against his instincts and humor the fraternity of seasoned felines. Many of the cats present were a mystery to Furrball. Likely one hit wonders or extras that faded away into obscurity before ever getting a big break.

Furrball pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, before Sylvester slammed down his fist, rising to his feet.

"Oooohh no ya don't," the cat shouted across the table. He turned to the cat next to him. "Shove off, Conrad!"

Furrball looked around for help. Babbit shrugged and nodded towards Sylvester.

"Don't make him come down here to get you," Babbit urged. "He's not right in the head, I tell ya!"

Furrball made his way towards his old mentor, as the others looked on. All chatter seemed to have ceased as the cats waited to see what would happen next. Furrball felt the urge to keep going once he made it to his new chair, but Sylvester botched that plan, placing a heavy paw on the younger cat's shoulder.

"If it isn't my budding prrrrrotégggé!" the elder announced, thrusting Furrball into his seat. He immediately noticed the number of empty bottles in front of the Looney Tune. The younger cat looked across the table to Claude for help.

"Sylvester, why don't we-," the yellow cat tried.

"Shhhat up, Cllllaude!" the cat spat, taking a seat. "I gotta question for Ffffurrball."

Furrball tensed up, recalling the numerous letters he'd received over the past few years that he didn't even bother to open from Sylvester. He gulped, looking at Sylvester, wondering why he hadn't thought about this before he agreed to show up.

"How've you b-been Furrball? It's been forevvver!" Sylvester mussed Furrball's hair roughly. The blue cat did not look amused.

"Where've you bbbbbbeen keeping yourself these days? I looked under all the rocks and boxes from Pasadena to Sacramento!"

_I've been around._ Furrball chose his words carefully, not really wanting to set the cat off.

"What's around? You never kept in touch!"

_Didn't have a phone. Still don't._

"Oh," Sylvester took a long swig of another drink.

"Sylvester, don't you think you've-"

"Didn't I tell you shhhhhut up, Claude?" Sylvester slammed down his bottle turning his attention back to the blue feline.

"I wanted to retire years ago," the black cat began. "You know I had to ssssssuffer more on that sssstupid mystery ssssshow more than all my years of sssshorts?"

Furrball shrugged, his fear slowly subsiding, being replaced by his old friend, apathy.

_It was your choice, right?_

At this, Sylvester stood up, looking as if he'd been slugged in the gut. Quickly recovering, he raised his hands, silencing the room. Pointing to the exit, his eyes narrowed. The other cats all got the hint and made their way to the exit with the exception of Furrball, whom Sylvester had pinned to his seat and Claude, who refused to remove himself. When the doors shut, Sylvester took his paw off of his old student and kicked the chair out from under him. Furrball leapt back, surprised.

"So it's true," Sylvester observed, folding his arms. "You've got the time to spend time with that mutt, but not with your old mentor."

It was then that Furrball noticed he'd balled up his fists. He gulped, leaping backwards, creating some distance between he and his elder. He shot a glance at Claude, indicating, he was okay.

"Ya wanna hit me, eh?"

Furrball relaxed his fists. He knew it would have no lasting effect on the cat with such legendary stamina. Besides, he didn't want to strike his first real teacher…

"Why are you so mad at him, Sylvester?"

Sylvester spun around, facing Claude. "Are you still here?" he began, cracking his knuckles. "Does '95 mean anything to you?"

Claude and Furrball looked at each other, each drawing a blank.

_Your show debuted that year?_

"Give the guy a muffffin," Sylvester retorted. "But if you had an even better memory, you'd recall it was supposed to be YOU doing a show."

Furrball stared at the cat, confused.

"Oh, that's right, you went on the road as soon as you finished school, right?"

The blue cat nodded.

"After I spent all that time getting you ready to take on a solo project, to maybe change the way our kind gets treated on screen, you up and vanish."

_I'm sorry. I didn't kn-_

"You never made it your buisssssness to know!" Sylvester spat, pointing a claw at him. "They didn't have a choice when you went AWOL, so guess who the default go-to cat was!"

_You could have quit. They don't own you._

The veins on Sylvester's forehead started to bulge, pulsating violently.

"They don't own me? Getta load of thissss Claude. Da wittle kitty is above the system!"

Furrball looked to Claude for help but noticed a tick of anger on the yellow cat's face that he was trying to hide.

_What's he talking about?_

Claude cleared his throat and closed his eyes, as if pondering whether or not to explain things to the younger cat.

"It's basically like this," Claude began after a moment. "Sylvester has status of a superstar. That means the company can bring him out of retirement to do anything they want him to do, including TV shows. Plus he has absolutely no say in what they do to him."

Furrball looked at Sylvester.

_Isn't that true for all of us in the studio?_

"Yes when you're on active duty. Once they retire you, you have the option to turn down rolls if you want. That is if you're not registered as a superstar."

_Can you change your status if you're a superstar?_

"It depends on whether or not you can find an heir to take your place."

_I was supposed to be…?_

"Well they can't very well make you if they can't find you to get you to sign on the dotted line.

We kind of figured that's why you've been on the road this whole time," Claude nodded to Sylvester, who had grown eerily still.

_Not really. I was just looking for something…_

"What?"

_I dunno, but I figured I'd know when I found it._

"My apprentice is a hippie! Wonderful!" Sylvester blurted out, unable to keep quiet anymore. "Do you have any clue what it's like to have to play the same roll for over fifty years? Nobody takessss you ssssseriously!" the cat spat, slamming the table, causing a few bottles to fall to the floor.

"It's bad enough they gave me a low crotch and a huge red nose. They thought it was cute to make me look like a goddamned clown. Vaudeville, slapstick my ass! Why doesn't the formal change with the times?" Sylvester swiped the remaining bottle, causing them to fly towards Furrball and Claude. They had just enough time to duck the as the bottle smashed on the walls.

"So while you're a vagabond, finding yourself, I gotta be the bitch-cat for the studio because no one else will step up to the plate.

_Then tell them "no"!_ Furrball started to find his lyrical footing and stood his ground.

_They can't just rule your life unless you let them. And don't blame me for your lack of a spine!_

At this, Sylvester lunged forward and slugged Furrball across the face, knocking the blue cat a few feet back. Claude hopped across the table, positioning himself between Sylvester and the downed cat.

The black cat started to advance but stopped, just short of laying out Claude as well.

"I'm tired," he announced as Furrball slow rose to his feet. "Think I'll check in, now."

The others watched as Sylvester grabbed his sports coat from the rack and staggered out of the room. Claude turned to Furrball as the door slammed shut.

"You gonna report him?"

Furrball rubbed his bruise.

_What's to report? He seems to have enough problems as it is now._

Forcing a smile, he looked away.

_I'd be jealous of me too_.

**ANESTHESIA F**

Afraid that going to see Fifi wasn't a viable option at the time given his sullen mood, the cat made his way to the hot, tin roof to clear his head and catch some zzz's. Considering he would be meeting Dizzy when he opened his eyes at dawn, it was an ideal location with the exception of the constant subtle threat of rain.

The feline's ears eventually detected footsteps on the stairs. Turning over slowly, his expected company arrived, jumping at the sight of the cat, obviously not anticipating Furrball beating him to the roof.

Furrball mewed softly, smiling at his old friend and Dizzy pointed to the sky, sitting on the side of the roof, legs dangling. The cat got up and joined him.

"Shh. Wait for sunrise, okay?"

Furrball looked at Dizzy, who seemed mesmerized by the subtle horizon. He relaxed and decided to take the scene in as well, though he'd experienced his share of sunrises, he'd never witnessed one with company before. Seemed a bit warmer, though he would have preferred to be spending his first time with another…

As the sun turned the sky a soft, pastel pink swirl, Dizzy sighed, inhaling deeply as if he were meditating. Furrball rose to his feet as Dizzy got up and the two stared at one another for a moment. It took a bit for the cat to realize that Dizzy was staring intently at the side of his face. Furrball turned away slightly, hiding his bruise in the shadows. His friend started to say something, but decided against it.

"Thanks you coming."

Furrball was impressed with the pause. Coming from Dizzy, especially, it was a kind gesture, not a simple afterthought or transition to a request. There was real gratitude in his voice. The cat held out his paw at this. Dizzy gladly shook it before he continued.

"You know, my new job now. I in Rotorua Juvie Hall. Like a C.O."

Furrball smiled, patting the toon on the back.

"Thanks," Dizzy expression suddenly became very solemn. "Got a bad case, though. Think you can help."

Furrball cocked his head, interested.

"He young. Maybe 8 or 9. Alley cat."

Furrball raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. No pound in Rotorua. Just juvi hall and prison. They cleared most cats out years ago. No one speak Catonese in New Zealand. He don't speak human. Me think he feral. Violent. No control."

Furrball didn't move, waiting for the punch line.

"He get out next week…He probably go right back soon. Can you talk to him? No one can."

Furrball looked a Dizzy for a long time. He looked out at the maturing sun, then back at Dizzy, considering his choices. Turning his pockets inside out, Furrball shrugged glumly.

"Cash problems?" Dizzy guessed. The cat nodded, ashamed.

Dizzy sat down, pondering their options. The light bulb soon hit, a hopeful smile crept across his face as he looked at Furrball.

"You pick up your royalty check from last TV special?"

Furrball stared at Dizzy blankly for a moment. Suddenly, his eye bulged with a realization. Dizzy smiled at this and the two shook hands.

"Plane leaves tomorrow night, okay?"

Breakfast was relatively uneventful. Fifi made continued inquiries about Furrball's face, but he was a master of changing subjects and avoiding interrogations altogether. The cat reverted back to his 'traditional' communication style, concealing his ability to speak English from those present at the buffet. Calamity smirked at this, but understandably said nothing. For whatever reason, Furrball never got around to telling Fifi that morning.

Before they knew it, it was dinner time again. The swelling had gone down significantly, but Sylvester was nowhere to be seen. Fifi might have put two and two together, had she been paying attention to the faculty, but was too interested in catching up with friends to notice. Before things had a chance to snowball, Furrball mustered up his courage and made his way over to Fifi as she was speaking with Shirley

"C-c-can I talk to y-y-you outside for a s-s-s-second?"

Regardless of the fact that his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, it was still enough to cause a good half of the cafeteria to grow silent. Furrball tried not to notice looking directly at his target as his ears started to burn from the stares of his old classmates.

"Oh my god, like, did you hear that?" Shirley was the first to acknowledge what the others had yet to process.

"Could you talk all this time and like just didn't tell us?"

The cat looked at Shirley for a moment then turned his attention back to Fifi. Reading the level of anxiety in his eyes, Fifi quickly led Furrball out to the balcony as the others tried, and failed, to go on with their conversations.

"…S-s-s-so I g-g-gotta go."

Fifi was quiet for a time. Before closing his eyes, Furrball saw disappointment written across her face. A strange feeling came over his stomach; one he wasn't used to having. In what would come to be the longest 30 seconds in the cat's life, Fifi remained silent. The touch a paw on his cheek caused the feline to open his eyes, to bravely face the inevitable. Much to his delight, the cat was completely inaccurate in what that inevitability was.

"Guess we've got to get packed up, eh?"

Furrball stood, dumbfounded in disbelief, having yet to experience someone keeping their word before. After a while, he felt a poke on his forehead, snapping him out of his trance.

"You're gonna have to stop being so surprised so easily," Fifi observed. "Otherwise, I'm gonna start taking offense." She smiled, pecking him on the cheek before leading him back to the party.

**ANESTHESIA FI**

There are few things worse than having adrenaline pumping through your veins when you have no means of physically draining the supply. Normally, on the road in his situation, Furrball would break out into a sprint hopping gates and scaling up walls until the excess energy was gone. Yet on a plane…

"Your knees are knocking. Are you nervous?"

Furrball looked over at Fifi and nodded, lying. A curious snoring sound came from the other side of the aisle. The two looked at Dizzy, the creature completely at peace for the moment.

Fifi looked under their seat. "Do you mind?" she asked, nodding to the violin case. Furrball shook his head, helping her lift it up.

"So what's in here, anyway?" she asked as she put the case in her lap.

Furrball smirked. "Violin."

Fifi chuckled, undoing the clasps. "Can I?"

The feline nodded, helping her with the last clasp that was stubborn and rusty. It acted as a natural lock.

With the violin finally in sight, Fifi let out a slight gasp. "You've been carrying this all this time and nothing else?"

Furrball smiled sheepishly.

"What about clothes? I mean…?"

The cat shrugged, picking up his bow.

"H-h-human concept. Only use them when I n-need them. Only n-need them when I'm with p-p-people which isn't a lot, usually."

Fifi rubbed her chin thoughtfully. It did make sense on some level.

"L-l-learned to wash clothes in just about any way too, if there isn't a Laundromat around." Furrball pointed to the clothes on his back. "Usually just wear one set a month."

"Thrifty," Fifi stated before regretting it. Furrball looked at him, but said nothing. "I mean, you're right. No reason to be a slave of fashion. Defeats the original purpose of clothes, right?"

There was a sparkle in the cat's eye that made Fifi grin. She lifted the violin as if it were a baby and nodded to Furrball.

"Will you play for me?"

Fifi handed the violin to Furrball. He stroked the bout slowly and shook his head.

"S-s-snapped the E string," Furrball explained, patting the neck.

Fifi nodded. "I'll get you one when we land," she said as he placed it back in the case. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's n-no S-s-Stradivari, but it's d-d-definitely g-great." he agreed as he put the instrument away.

Furrball attempted to occupy his mind for the rest of the 13-hour flight by meditating. It didn't take instinct long to kick in and let his consciousness in on the fact that Fifi was staring a hole in him. He tried ignoring it for a while; afraid that idle chatter would push her away from him. After about a half an hour, he lost his inhibitions and relented opening his eyes.

"G-go ahead, if you w-want."

Fifi blinked, her cheeks turning a bright pink. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Y-you w-want to ask me s-something, don't you?"

"Not really," Fifi started playing with her hair.

"Oh," Furrball leaned back in his chair closing his eyes again, trying not to smile.

"It's just," Fifi started squeezing her tail. "I'm curious, you know?"

Furrball looked over at Dizzy, who was still snoring. "Go ahead, like I said. Ask away."

"Wh-where's the best place to sleep at night when you're… between houses?"

Furrball looked up, for a moment, considering the question before responding. "I guess… If you can handle the noise of the m-maintenance workers and you're not against using s-stealth or small spaces, the s-subway stations… but not on weekends."

"Why not weekends?"

"I blame F-fight Club for that," he answered quickly, eyes narrowing. "But that's a story for another day."

-End Part 3-

_Everything has consequences_


	4. Chapter 4

**ANESTHESIA FIE**

Few places capture hopelessness as effectively as the lobby of a juvenile detention facility. It's like a rite of passage for the career criminal and the filter for those that society lets slip through the cracks. Everything about the place made Furrball cringe, from the unsettling fluorescent lighting to the underpaid, overworked, emotionally jarred correctional officers.

"Dizzy! You're back so soon! I thought I told you to take a whole week…" The man looked so stereotypical, he could have come straight from a stock photo of a police lieutenant. Furrball diverted his eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Sorry boss. He here with me. Captain Jeffries, meet Furrball."

The cat held out his hand as the man raised an eye brow before giving it a firm shake.

"Furrball? A bit self-deprecating for a name, don't you think?"

The feline smirked and rolled his eyes.

"We're not here to help _him._" Fifi whispered into his ear.

Dizzy cleared his throat, flashing a look at his boss.

"You'll have to forgive me," the man said. "My humor's not for everyone, so says my ex-wife. Anyway, this way please," he said, leading them to his office.

"Now, I don't expect miracles, but we could really use some background knowledge about him. Enough to get him to a suitable foster home this time."

"F-foster home?"

"We use foster home for all animal here. Not just people. We all people here," Dizzy explained.

"That's s-s-stupid," Furrball observed. "He's a c-cat. Why w-would you expect him to act l-l-like anything else?"

"Says the cat that's keen on a skunk," Jeffries observed.

Furrball started to get up, before Fifi squeezed his leg under the table. He shot her a look, but she shook her head slowly.

"Why is he locked up, anyway?" Fifi spoke up, trying to get things back on track.

"You mean this time? Mauled a shopkeeper. He needed 32 stitches and a tetanus shot."

"Wh-what about a r-r-rabies shot?" the cat snarled.

"Of course we did," the man replied, not detecting the comment's nature.

"Anyway, we've had to put him in solitary this time around. He got into seven fights his first week in. Sent four others to the infirmary. And meds don't seem to have any effect on him. I'm worried that they're going to put him to sleep if he gets sent here again."

Furrball shot Dizzy a glance.

"Guess we're not s-s-so equal after all," the feline observed. "H-how many children y-you execute a y-year?"

"Let's go to cell, okay?" Dizzy stood up, coaxing Furrball out of the room.

As per Furrball's request, all the lights were turned off and guards at the ready outside of the room. Being semi-feral himself, the cat knew that two senses were vital for gaining the trust of a completely wild cat; sound and smell. Sight tended to create rushed judgment which was too risky. There's only one chance to make a first impression and with a feral, that's the only chance you get to establish a rapport. With the lights off and his human clothes discarded, Furrball got down on all fours and entered the darkness.

Though he'd anticipated the pounce, the amount of force behind it surprised him, making it difficult to absorb the blow correctly. He could hear the kitten sniffing, inspecting him and slowly, Furrball outmaneuvered him, darting out of lunging distance. Furrball, out of immediate danger inhaled deeply.

The 'kitten's' scent told Furrball volumes. He wasn't as young as the others had predicted. Definitely a mixed breed. But most importantly to him, at least one of the cat's parents wasn't a stray. Likely the father. It might have been easier if it had been the mother, but at least by stray instinct, the cat would understand Catonese.

_It's warm in here._

_You are who? Yes._

_I heard about you from a friend. _

_You are who?_

Furrball dodged the strike intended for his ear mostly by accidental reflex. He was definitely rusty to this type of interaction. It was generally advisable to answer questions as they were posed.

_Just a cat from another land._

_Land another?_

_That's right. You know, you talk in an interesting way._

_Too you. _

_Do you have a name?_

_Name is what?_

_A name is what others call you. Just you._

_Pest? Asshole? Oh._

_Hmm. Maybe we can think of another name for you._

_Me give you._

_Maybe. In time._

_Now!_

Furrball wasn't fast enough to evade the swipe this time. He felt the blood gushing before the actual tear. By blind luck, he was able to roll over to the opposite side before being attacked any more.

_Okay. What about Sparkz?_

_Fire like?_

_Yeah. Seems to suit your disposition._

_What?_

_Your personality._

_Oh. Is name your?_

_Furrball. _

_Why? Eww._

_It just is. _

_Oh._

_Look, Sparkz, I'm going to turn on the light now. Is that okay with you?_

_Problem no._

Furrball banged on the door. A few seconds later, the low-watt bulb hummed to life. The two cats visually inspected one another for what seemed like an hour. Sparkz was three-toned; black, gray and white with matted fur and scruffy ears. His eyes were different colors too, one green, one almost red, giving him a somewhat menacing appearance. What Furrball couldn't take his eyes off was the fact that the cat's upper left paw was gone.

Furrball noticed that Sparkz seemed to like what he saw, particularly the bandage and the chunk of missing ear. Furrball grinned at this, as most seemed to frown upon these features. Furrball looked up as Sparkz pointed his stub at his tail.

_Present._

_Who from?_

_I can't remember._

Furrball pointed to Sparkz's left arm.

_Too me. Present. Remember can I._

_Who would cut off your hand as a present?_

_Shopkeeper. Bird ate I._

_At a pet store?_

_Cage outside. Game fair. Yeah?_

_If you're starving, yeah._

…

**ANESTHESIA FIEND**

Back in Captain Jeffires' office, Furrball felt like a scout debriefing his company after a mission. It felt strange. Even Fifi's presence hadn't calmed him sufficiently after his talk with the cat which lasted half the day.

"The s-sss-system is going to k-k-keep failing him. He can't go back to foster care and you w-won't let him go out on his own."

"We didn't invite you here to criticize our policy, Mr. Furrball. Please just give us the information we need to do our best with him."

"Wh-what's to tell? He's about 10 in h-h-human years. There's t-t-toon blood flowing in him which is w-why he can go bipedal. He doesn't speak or understand h-human."

"What about his family?" Fifi spoke up, causing Furrball to face the skunk.

"From wh-what I can tell, h-his dad was the d-domestic. Probably carrying the t-toon blood in him. He never knew his father, though. Was raised in a s-street family until about four years ago when they abandoned him for some reason."

"Abandoned?"

Furrball shot a look at Captain Jeffries.

"S-s-so he says. I think they were killed in a s-s-street cleaning campaign."

Dizzy and Captain Jeffries nervous exchanged glances, but said nothing.

"He's not a r-risk to the public. Not if he's left in peace. If he w-were treated equally, he w-w-wouldn't ever be v-violent."

"Wishful thinking?"

"C-call it a c-c-code. We don't want to l-live in b-blood, but we have to s-survive."

"Fact is, Mr. Furrball, he's a violent offender."

"F-fact is, _Mr. Jeffrey_, he's a k-kid!" Furrball slammed his paws on the table, standing up. Captain Jeffires was about to chastise him about getting his name wrong, but stopped when he saw the look in the cat's eyes.

"He ate a b-b-bird in a c-c-cage outside a pet store. He hadn't had a real m-meal in a week before he resorted to it. What was the b-bird cage doing outside?"

Fifi squeezed Furrball's paw under the table.

"The b-bastard that cut off his paw? No ch-charges, I b-bet."

"The man was defending his business," Captain Jeffries protested.

"And this t-t-time, he was s-s-sleeping on a m-m-mat outside of a s-s-shop," Furrball continued, ignoring the defense. "The guy s-s-smacks him with a b-b-broom to wake him up and he was in f-f-fight mode."

"I read the case, I know about it. They went easy on him this time, still. 32 stitches isn't a little swipe in the dark."

"It is if you're always being hunted."

The cat's tone was deeper. Pronounced and determined; laced with the sting of experience. For a moment, the room fell completely silent.

"Um," Dizzy tried, pulling out some paperwork. "I have idea."

Furrball took the documents looked at them for a moment and then at Fifi. She smiled, taking the documents from the cat and her heart skipped a beat. Furrball noticed her eyes dilate and cocked his head, concerned.

"These are adoption papers," Fifi breathed. Furrball's eyes popped out and he shot a look at Dizzy.

"You worry about him?" Dizzy spoke up. "You raise him. Who else can?"

Furrball looked at Fifi, then at the table, trying to put his head around the idea. Turning back to Fifi, he started to open his mouth, but she nodded, silencing the words before they left his mouth. A hopeful smile took over his face and the two joined hands.

"S-so you'll…"

"Of course. We'll do it together," she whispered into his ear.

Furrball looked over at Dizzy, then at Captain Jeffries. The man sighed, shaking his head.

"Fine. Let 'im be your problem from now on. Let's go to the court to make it final, then."

-EPILOGUE-

The next 48 hours were a blur. Sparkz was not particularly adverse to the idea of leaving the island, particularly since Furrball spoke his language. He was intrigued by Fifi as well, and found her scent to be enticing. Sparkz had this untamed charm and curious disposition that Fifi absolutely adored.

After saying their goodbyes to Dizzy, the three flew back to the States without incident. At first, Sparkz was horrified to realize he was so high above the ground, but after ten minutes, fatigue of the recent events overcame him and he spent the remainder of the flight sleeping.

Arriving at LAX, Fifi rented a car. In the hotel, the two adults sat, considering their options. After much deliberation, Furrball finally decided to bite the bullet and go see his old mentor. Sylvester was more than happy to introduce the cat to his directors and they were more than happy to sign Furrball to a lucrative five-year contract with merchandising and possible film time. As for Fifi, she was able to land steady work as a freelancer for a French-language magazine. Furrball couldn't help but think how life is funny about how it takes so long to work itself out and yet when it does, it seems so seamless as if it took no effort at all.

They rented a flat in a moderately quiet neighborhood where Furrball spent most of the time educating Sparkz. It took a solid three months to get Sparkz to speak Catonese properly, but he was an eager student. Furrbal wasn't exactly qualified to be teaching ESL to Sparkz, so he assisted Fifi in doing so, losing his stutter almost completely. The time the three spent together that they all cherished the most was when Furrball would sit on the side of the roof at night and serenade the two with an impromptu concerto. The soothing sound swiftly lulled Sparkz to sleep every time and instilled a sense of passion and wonder in Fifi. As for Furrball, it was therapy for putting up with his day job, being in the public eye once again. If only he could think of the perfect way to give her the ring…

-End-

_Thanks for reading!_


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